


But she isn't a ghost

by LeSirene



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adlock, English, F/M, One Shot, Short One Shot, Tumblr Challenge, adlock of our own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 17:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12822459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeSirene/pseuds/LeSirene
Summary: The ghost of Irene Adler shows at Sherlock's door. But she isn't a ghost. Irene is back.





	But she isn't a ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Gustavo Adolfo Becquer's poem: "Amor eterno" ("Eternal love").

_May the sun be clouded forever;_

_may the oceans run dry in an instant;_

_the axis spinning our planet may shatter_

_like so much a brittle crystal._

_Yes, all of that may happen! May Death_

_cover me with it's funeral shroud;_

_but never will in me be extingish_

_the flame of your love_

—"Eternal love", Bécquer

 

4:31 a.m. Things always seem worse at night. An abyss looks deeper; a wound has palpitations, as if it’s infected; a heartbeat seems to last an eternity; a tear takes forever to travel from the eye to the chin; and a broken heart hurts as if it’s being physically torn apart.

4:32 a.m. A soft hand caresses Sherlock’s in the dark of the room. The Detective and The Woman lie in his bed, breathing fast, naked, warm. His arms are around her curvaceous body, and her head lies on his chest, going up and down with his lungs.

Irene had appeared at Sherlock’s doorstep a hour earlier, dressed in an opal nightdress, barefoot and soaking wet. Her state made Sherlock think he was dreaming with her phantasmagoric apparition, but it was odd, because he hadn’t dreamed at all in the last year. Exactly a year without dreaming: maybe that was why he was doing it again. And dreaming with _her_ , no less.

“What are you doing here?”, he had asked to the ghost. 

“I’m alive”, the ghost had answered. 

And Sherlock felt how the blood drained from this body, because never in his wildest dreams would he dared to think Irene was _alive_.

That meant he wasn’t dreaming.

That meant she wasn’t dead.

He invited her in and she sat on John’s chair. He made tea and she said she was sorry for disappearing. He asked what had lead her to resurrect after an entire year of sleeping with The Death.

She’d been running in the rain for at least half and hour, she told him. She’d been running away from a client —the clients who fucked the ghost of the dominatrix weren’t as polite as the ones who used to hire her in the past. This person was mad at her because the hole hour she spent with them she had been thinking about somebody else. She’d been moaning their’s name, crying their’s name, biting her own lips and trying hard no to run towards that person.

“Me?”, Sherlock asked, his mouth dry.

“You”, Irene answered, her eyes wet.

She said she felt guilty, for she had died only to be away from him, and after a year of suffering and running, she was back at his door, at his flat, at his life. He didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve him.

The electricity went off after a massive lightning hit the city, and he said she could stay until the light came back.

She thought she didn’t deserve his hospitality.

He said he didn’t care about her self-pity.

9:47 a.m. Things always seem less dramatic with the light of the morning. Maybe you are able to jump to the other side of that abyss; that wound is going to be just fine after all; time doesn’t freeze every time you listen to your own heartbeat; with that same time you’ll stop crying until you fall asleep; and, yes, your heart will heal.

Yes, it will.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a Tumblr challenge (adlock-o3.tumblr.com/post/165698230961/letters-of-our-own-by-toocoolformuggles). 
> 
> English isn't my mother language and I hope I didn't messed this up, but in case I did, please tell me, so I can fix it!
> 
>  
> 
> You can find it in Spanish here: archiveofourown.org/works/12843456


End file.
